Salvation
by Kat Harrcolys
Summary: The news from the Doctor is unpleasant to say the least. The old man can see the hurt in her eyes, in her fists, and then, just as fast as he saw it, it's gone, now replaced with her façade; By her uniform and professionalism. She disregards his information, as if each word doesn't cut into her deeper, making engravings on her bones.


A/N: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist. Spoilers everywhere, although the main plot takes place after the Promised Day.

Salvation:

The news from the Doctor is unpleasant to say the least. The old man can see the hurt in her eyes, in her fists, and then, just as fast as he saw it, it's gone, now replaced with her façade; By her uniform and professionalism. She disregards his information, as if each word doesn't cut into her deeper, making engravings on her bones.

Stumbling feet reached their destination, dragging across the red stained carpet, as she reached out into nothingness; an attempt to regain her composure, failing miserably. Once agile fingers, now shaking furiously, clasped together as elbows reached chipped oak, and knees rubbed against the terribly thin carpet. She shouldn't be here. This wasn't the time or the place to be weak, and yet, here she was, kneeling in one of the crumbled temples of Ishval, praying for salvation. Salvation. had committed her sins long ago; it was too late to hope for forgiveness now. She knew that she was too cowardly to shed ached in her eyes, causing her to close them tightly in frustration. Strong shoulders shook silently for what could have been minutes, hours or days, until she finally moved. Her steps once again became crisp, as she raised the mask to her face once again to face the world, leaving the temple to return to her duties in the restoration.

"Captain Hawkeye…Are you alright." The young man asked, shifting his glasses up his nose, a nervous habit she had become more than aware of over the years. Lips curved into an forced smile that didn't reach her eyes, and she spoke softly.

"I'm fine, Lieutenant. Just tired, is all." Suddenly he wished Havoc were there to badger her. He certainly couldn't do it. Damn the man and his incessant smoking habit. The feeble man straightened his uniform and took a deep breath, as her steps continued to echo away from him. He let out the breath in frustration. How he hated being a coward. He needed to know why she was crying. While she had attempting to hide it, he could see it in her shoulders, in the swell of the bags under her eyes. His lungs expanded, and his chest puffed. He had to get her to tell him what was wrong. She hadn't been acting like herself all day. Closing his eyes tightly he finally shouted.

"You're lying!"

"Lying about what?" A lackluster voice spoke. Fuery's eyes popped open in surprise, just in time to get the sight of the blonde Major's lazy drag of yet another cigarette. He sighed, disappointed in himself. She was gone, and the man notorious for harassing her had once again appeared. Havoc arched a curious brow in the young man's direction, before he grabbed his technical equipment and marched off in a hurry, apparently aggravated. Havoc simply shrugged his shoulders and sat, propping his feet up on the desk, and taking yet another deep inhale from the nicotine filled stick that was perched between his lips.

Damn the man and his terrible timing.

* * *

He chuckles his way into the house, his keys jingling in the lock as he pulls them, before stopping abruptly, noticing that she isn't out running errands, as he expected. She sits with her back to him, and while the small lamp is on, the room seems to be shrouded in darkness. He quirks a eyebrow at her and cautiously asks:

"Everything alright, Riza? How was your day off?" At this she abruptly moves from her position on the couch, her back still rigid, still turned to him. Finally, he hears her take a deep breath and her cold eyes come to face his.

"I put in a request for a transfer." And with that, she's gone, walking off to the bedroom, as his face crumbles. How could she? What had happened? His despair is suddenly replaced with anger. Why should he have to deal with all these feelings while she has none? They were a team; she couldn't just make decisions like this and disregard his feelings. He stomps off to the bedroom before stopping at the hard door. He had to regain his composure, relax the fists by his sides and the tension in his face. She was hiding something, he could feel it. Something happened to her. He sighs, and enters their bedroom, only to discover that she is putting the finishing touches on a bag, closing it with a distinct 'click.'

"What are you doing?" He asks innocently, genuinely perplexed at her behavior. She doesn't look at him, simply responds that she is leaving. How can she leave so suddenly, without even consulting him first without- the Fuhrer-, he must be involved in this? Still, it doesn't explain her behavior. She gently asks him to move and he steps aside, still confused. Hearing the soft 'clang' of metal behind his back, he turns to their shared dresser. His eyes widen in horror as he sees her wedding band lying on the wood, shinning in the light. They worked so hard for this, and after everything…she doesn't want it anymore? He can't control himself any longer, and he follows her, grabbing her by her arm and turning her around. She adverts her eyes from him, refusing to even gaze his way. She quickly shakes him off and turns around, continuing to leave their small dwelling.

"Captain." He commands with vigor. How he hates to use rank on her, but he needs to get to the bottom of this issue...he can no longer deal with her cold stoicism. Her body suddenly tenses, and his voice softens. He knows she isn't as strong as she would make everyone believe. That she isn't invincible. "Riza…what's going on?"

"It's the third time…I can't anymore." He can tell she cuts her statement short to avoid her voice from cracking. She doesn't want him to hear the crack that he can already feel emanating from her body. He crosses the short distance between them, pushing her bowed head upward, his fingers perched lightly under her chin. She refuses to let him see her. She looks away from him. "I can't give you what you want."

"And what is it I want," he asks, his brows furrowed in confusion.

"A family." It comes out as a strained whisper. He suddenly becomes all too aware of her previous statement, and be beings to put the proper pieces together. He must confirm his thoughts. It couldn't be what he thought it was. He would know. She would tell him. He mustn't jump to conclusions.

"What is it the third time for, Riza?" He says, trying to meet her eyes but instead noticing she is staring down at her hand which is turning white from the tight fist she is making around the handle of her suitcase.

The room was cold, and silent. Curtains drooping in the window seemed to be drowning in the somber atmosphere that encompassed the room like a tsunami, swallowing it whole. Finally she turns to leave and he knows he needs to catch her. Keep her here. It all seemed so impossible. His mind was racing, and he asked the only question he could think of. The only words that made any sense him.

"Why didn't you ever tell me" he delivers, halting her. With her back turned to him, he sees the suitcase shake in her hands.

"Tell you what?" she shouts, spinning on her heals, her eyes blazing. She wants to scream. Shout. Blame him. Blame God. Mostly she wants to blame herself. She continues shouting "That I can't carry our-" she stumbles.

She makes the mistake of looking into his eyes, earnest and wet, and loses her composure, her carefully assembled armor falling to pieces and chinking to the ground as she drops the suitcase, and begins to fall herself. He has her in his arms almost immediately and he lowers them to the ground.

"That-I can't carry our child," Her face is in his uniform, loud sobs wracking her body in ways he hasn't seen in years. "I-I-I," she's stumbling over her words, shaking in his arms as he tightens his grip around her, pulling her upward, where she nuzzles into his neck. Her hands are clenched in his uniform, the fabric coiled in her hands. Her hair has fallen from the meticulously placed clip as he sits.

"We're a team," he whispers, as he rubs her back. "Why did you feel this burden was only your own?" His tears are landing on the top of her head, and his voice is cracking as he speaks. Three children. She's lost three children and he hasn't even noticed.

"It's _my fault," _she croaks_. _"I-I can't give you what you need."

"The only thing I need is you, Riza." He pulls her from his body and looks at her, his beautiful, determined wife with the weight of the world on her shoulders. Determined to give them a family. "Ju-Just promise me" he pauses. "Promise me you won't blame yourself. Promise you'll talk to me, because I love you. And I don't blame you." He's pushing tears from her eyes with the pads of his fingers.

She looks into his eyes, and sees the fat, wet tears perched on his lids, falling over. She holds her flat, empty stomach and cries more, and this time he joins her, mourning the loss of their child, of their previous children. She feels safe in his arms. Loved. Saved.

Maybe she had salvation all along.


End file.
